It has it's own sweet revenge!
From Wikipedia: Going postal is an American English slang term, used as a verb meaning to suddenly become extremely and uncontrollably angry, possibly to the point of violence. The term derives from a series of incidents from 1983 onward in which United States Postal Service (USPS) workers shot and killed managers, fellow workers, and members of the police or general public.
I had lost count many years ago the number of times the term ‘Going postal’ was topic of conversation during breaks, lunch, during and after work at social events amongst co-workers and myself.
At one job in the late 1990s a coworker of mine offhandedly asked me, “If going postal means shooting up the workplace at a post office, what would shooting and killing co-workers at a printing company be called?”
My answer, “Graphic violence!”
Although neither I or my friends and former associates in printdom know of any incident of a mass murder rampage (slash) suicide ever happening in a commercial printing company, many of us can fully understand why these things happen in the workplace.
Working in advertising and commercial printing is stressful and highly competitive. There are deadlines that must be met, every facet of production has to run on schedule and there is absolutely no margin of error. Clients pay big bucks for us to produce a product that represents their image favorably. Press time is a valuable commodity that must be started up for each job on schedule.
In newspaper or magazine production, a space is held waiting for the ad to come in by a deadline date. The same is true in commercial printing where press time is reserved. Miss the deadline and the client risks paying an additional charge of $800.00 or more an hour for staging, prepress and press idle time. And God forbid if a press breaks down and the job has to be moved to another press or farmed out to another company. We barely had enough time to get the job ready for press the first time, even if the job came in on schedule. Now we have to make time to rework the darn thing.
Talk about stress!
The fast paced demands of the commercial printing industry could be exciting and physically draining but not to the extreme point of pushing someone past the brink. We had other means of shaking off a bad night at work - the bar - from 8 a.m. till 3 p.m. and we pounded down a lot too; while shooting pool, playing darts. Friday morning bowling league was great for working off the tension of a bad night - while drinking, of course!
It’s not the work itself - it’s the (mis)management; the blame maker; the incompetent bullying taskmaster at the job!
Quite frankly, my friends and former associates can relate to the incidents committed by postal workers pushed beyond the emotional breaking point, however we do question why they (the postal worker), or for that matter, any disgrundled worker has to take out so many people on the way to Mr. Bossman’s office. After all, chances are that some times; many times they had to deal with his crap too.
Yeah we’ve all discussed it; we’ve all figured who might get theirs eventually. We’ve even tried to pinpoint who in the department might become unhinged enough to do the deed and we all pledged to come to that person’s defense in court, if need be. We even had an agreement that, should it be any one of us, remember who the target is and keep our co-workers out of it-we’ve all suffered enough.
So where is this all leading to?
It leads to that one incompetent, cowardly bastard (along with his accomplices) whose actions may have been the catalyst; the finger on the trigger that set my endocrine system awry; the beginning of my decline in good health that I enjoyed for so many years - the one who nearly caused me to have a nervous breakdown; keeping me in a chronic state of adult anxiety.
It was 1994 when I heard about a job opening at the Berea, Ohio printing facility of a large, well-known downtown Cleveland, Ohio publishing company. I was working for a commercial printer in Twinsburg, Ohio at the time and was very unhappy working the day shift. I felt that the midnight shift job in Berea provided, not only the opportunity to leave but, (naturally being a night owl) working the shift of my preference.
About two weeks after applying, I was called to come in for a skills test after work. I was told to meet with John, the second shift prepress supervisor. He would be the one to test me.
Without going into detail regarding the technical aspects of the skills test, John checked my work and told me that the quality of my work was the best of all the people he submitted the test to and that he was going to recommend me for the position. After giving a two-week notice, I started the job in Berea; eventually moving there in 1995.
The job was going great for me and I really liked working there. Several of my friends applied for and got jobs there. I would never suggest to friends to apply at a known hell hole.
Just short of being there a year the problems started.
John accused me of making mistakes that required re-doing my work. I asked him to show me what it was that I did wrong but he couldn’t produce proof.
Soon the mistakes became a weekly occurance, then a nightly occurance yet John could not produce evidence.
My anxiety overwhelmed me; I started having problems sleeping. I couldn’t figure out how I could be making so many mistakes; I did not have a reputation for making mistakes. I had a letter of recommendation from a former department supervisor that clearly stated that I was “meticulous” and had “a keen eye for detail”, so why was I making so many mistakes and WHY wasn’t John able to produce the evidence so that I could correct whatever I was doing wrong?
And there were those constant threats that I better straighten up regarding the errors or face displinary action such as a two-week suspension without pay or being fired.
My doctor wrote a letter on my behalf requesting that my shift start time be changed to 1 a.m. so that I didn’t have to deal with John (he usually left work at that time). Still, he would stay over until I came in so he could tell me about the mistakes that I was making; that too much of my work had to be torn down and restripped. He said that some of the jobs went up on the press wrong and the company was losing valuable press running time, thus costing money.
Finally, John produced the evidence that I had been asking for. He showed me a photocopy of the film ( I ) stripped before it was torn down and restripped. The photocopies weren’t clear because negatives could not be photocopied clearly. He also had the corrected negative taped to the mylar carrier. I checked the label on the mylar carrier that the film was secured to. It was initialed by the original stripper who worked on that particular page. It was initialed CM.
But wait a minute...CM? I don’t initial anything CM and none of the writing on the label was mine.
I told John that was not my writing or my initials. He was insistant that I initialed the job and he would not accept that.
We argued for several minutes over this. I initial everything CDM - for my first, middle and last name-period; and I circle my initials too! Always have; always will.
At the end of my shift, I had to meet with Department Manager Vince V. who told me that he had no choice but to suspend me for two weeks without pay for costly mistakes.
Although going without two weeks of pay would be a financial hardship, I had hoped that I could get my nerves calmed down in that time.
One Sunday night I went into work and began to have problems with lightheadedness; I couldn’t think.
The floors were being stripped and waxed; my department had been finished several hours earlier but the chemical smell lingered. It was disorienting me. (I am still sensitive to chemical smells and MCS is often a componite of fibromyalgia and CFIDS).
The lead person on my shift was Tim M.; a part-time fireman and EMT in Amherst. I went to him and told him I was having problems; or tried to. I was conscious of my surroundings, somewhat coherent but spaced. I felt like I was coming out of a drug induced sleep; feeling much like I was under the influence of sodium-pentethol. I was trying to get help from Tim; I couldn’t think on my own. I needed to go to the hospital but could not convey that to him. I don’t understand why, being an EMT, he did not recognize this.
I tried to work. I started to make mistakes; I corrected them. I made more mistakes; I corrected them. I remember struggling to think and not feeling confident in what I was working on. I was exposed to toxic chemicals at work again and once again I lost my ability to function.
(I've had several exposures to toxic chemicals in my 25 year career).
Now some (still not all) of the mistakes were mine.
My doctor took me out of work for three months. I had to leave work often due to the continuous outgasing from the chemicals; even weeks later.
Meanwhile my best friend Debby, who had started at the company upon my recommendation, had suggested that I make an appointment with a rheumetologist that her sister was going to. Debby was quite aware of the problems I was having with anxiety, sleep and the beginning of depression symptoms and felt that I might have what her sister was diagnosed with; fibromyalgia. (I will write more about how my diagnosis for fibromyalgia was made in a future posting).
I received a letter from the company asking me when I could return to work. In the letter, they stated that they would have to fill my position if I did not return soon.
Although I didn't feel ready mentally and physically ready to return, I convinced my doctor to release me from sick leave despite his objections. He signed the release papers.
I telephoned the HR Director and told her that my doctor was releasing me to come back to work. The next day, I took the release to the HR Director and was asked to wait in the lobby. About ten minutes passed and then I heard various names announced over the intercom - the company president Bob M., the plant manager, the department manager Vince V., second-shift supervisor and my immediate boss John H. - all called to the conference room.
I knew immediately, I was set up.
Then I was escorted in. The HR Director, her assistant and a secretary (to document the meeting) were also present.
Needless to say; I was let go. The president of the company said that I wasn’t fired - I was being laid off. He said that the company would not dispute unemployment compensation and that I was welcome to apply for any future openings that I was qualified for within the company.
I did apply for an advertised opening in my former pre-press department and was not granted an interview.
I filed with the EEOC a discrimination complaint against the company. During the EEOC investigation, they could not find evidence to support my claim.
After my dismissal, two subsequent charges of sexual harassment were filed with the EEOC against the company. One of the charges, filed January 22, 1997 in U.S. District Court in Cleveland was settled out of court, in favor of the victim, for an undisclosed amount in damages The other victim, in a separate incident of sexual harassment, was awarded a settlement (by jury) in excess of $800,000. The company appealed but, unfortunately, the victim financially could not pursue the case. Both cases were high profile; publicized by Cleveland print and television media!
Years later - after my symptoms worsened, I could no longer work and had filed for Social Security Disability - I ran into a former employee of this company at the library in Berea.
Debbie S., a department manager who had been fired by the company after the sexual harassment jury trial, had been instructed to falsify testimonial documents regarding that particular lawsuit against the company.
She also told them who MC was. His name was Mike C. and he initialed all of his work with his last name initial first (the C) and his first name initial last (the M).
Mike C. had been at the company for nearly 20 years; was well liked - one of the boys.
Debbie S. said that a comment was made that, since they (the spine-less bastards!) had made the mistake of accusing me, they felt they should continue the charade rather than risk being sued. All of this was on the advice of Russ H., the head of HR at the downtown Cleveland corporate office, and corporate attorneys. The reason why I was laid off rather than fired; the reason why my unemployment claim was not going to be disputed.
However, I believe in Karma.
You see, John H., my shift-supervisor - my immediate boss, had gone on sick leave for anxiety and was very close to a breakdown. After several months on sick leave he was advised to return to work or his position would be filled. He returned and was dismissed!
Here’s is an interesting note about John H. - he was given his supervisory position because - he made too many mistakes when he was a four-color stripper!
In 2006, the company was sold to a Chicago-based printing and publishing company (the largest in the United States) and the Berea facility was closed.
It is believed (in all faiths: all cultures) that, when close to death (NDE) or at the actual time of death, each and every one of us will experience a panoramic life review. I wonder what it will be like for my accusers who were at this particular printing/publishing company?
There is no need to resort to violence - just be patient. What goes around, comes around.
Karma is a good thing. Wait for it. Enjoy the gratification of it!
End
By the way, I DO NOT endorse violence in the workplace!
Please feel free to comment. I would love to hear what you have to say about TOXIC BOSSES!
Oh, Yes! Here are some links you may enjoy:
How to protest at work the French way - take your boss hostage
Boss Bitching: Tyrant Boss Types
AND WE MUST NOT FORGET THE QUEEN OF MEAN. She has had her panoramic life review & she won't be back.
From Wikipedia: Going postal is an American English slang term, used as a verb meaning to suddenly become extremely and uncontrollably angry, possibly to the point of violence. The term derives from a series of incidents from 1983 onward in which United States Postal Service (USPS) workers shot and killed managers, fellow workers, and members of the police or general public.
I had lost count many years ago the number of times the term ‘Going postal’ was topic of conversation during breaks, lunch, during and after work at social events amongst co-workers and myself.
At one job in the late 1990s a coworker of mine offhandedly asked me, “If going postal means shooting up the workplace at a post office, what would shooting and killing co-workers at a printing company be called?”
My answer, “Graphic violence!”
Although neither I or my friends and former associates in printdom know of any incident of a mass murder rampage (slash) suicide ever happening in a commercial printing company, many of us can fully understand why these things happen in the workplace.
Working in advertising and commercial printing is stressful and highly competitive. There are deadlines that must be met, every facet of production has to run on schedule and there is absolutely no margin of error. Clients pay big bucks for us to produce a product that represents their image favorably. Press time is a valuable commodity that must be started up for each job on schedule.
In newspaper or magazine production, a space is held waiting for the ad to come in by a deadline date. The same is true in commercial printing where press time is reserved. Miss the deadline and the client risks paying an additional charge of $800.00 or more an hour for staging, prepress and press idle time. And God forbid if a press breaks down and the job has to be moved to another press or farmed out to another company. We barely had enough time to get the job ready for press the first time, even if the job came in on schedule. Now we have to make time to rework the darn thing.
Talk about stress!
The fast paced demands of the commercial printing industry could be exciting and physically draining but not to the extreme point of pushing someone past the brink. We had other means of shaking off a bad night at work - the bar - from 8 a.m. till 3 p.m. and we pounded down a lot too; while shooting pool, playing darts. Friday morning bowling league was great for working off the tension of a bad night - while drinking, of course!
It’s not the work itself - it’s the (mis)management; the blame maker; the incompetent bullying taskmaster at the job!
Quite frankly, my friends and former associates can relate to the incidents committed by postal workers pushed beyond the emotional breaking point, however we do question why they (the postal worker), or for that matter, any disgrundled worker has to take out so many people on the way to Mr. Bossman’s office. After all, chances are that some times; many times they had to deal with his crap too.
Yeah we’ve all discussed it; we’ve all figured who might get theirs eventually. We’ve even tried to pinpoint who in the department might become unhinged enough to do the deed and we all pledged to come to that person’s defense in court, if need be. We even had an agreement that, should it be any one of us, remember who the target is and keep our co-workers out of it-we’ve all suffered enough.
So where is this all leading to?
It leads to that one incompetent, cowardly bastard (along with his accomplices) whose actions may have been the catalyst; the finger on the trigger that set my endocrine system awry; the beginning of my decline in good health that I enjoyed for so many years - the one who nearly caused me to have a nervous breakdown; keeping me in a chronic state of adult anxiety.
It was 1994 when I heard about a job opening at the Berea, Ohio printing facility of a large, well-known downtown Cleveland, Ohio publishing company. I was working for a commercial printer in Twinsburg, Ohio at the time and was very unhappy working the day shift. I felt that the midnight shift job in Berea provided, not only the opportunity to leave but, (naturally being a night owl) working the shift of my preference.
About two weeks after applying, I was called to come in for a skills test after work. I was told to meet with John, the second shift prepress supervisor. He would be the one to test me.
Without going into detail regarding the technical aspects of the skills test, John checked my work and told me that the quality of my work was the best of all the people he submitted the test to and that he was going to recommend me for the position. After giving a two-week notice, I started the job in Berea; eventually moving there in 1995.
The job was going great for me and I really liked working there. Several of my friends applied for and got jobs there. I would never suggest to friends to apply at a known hell hole.
Just short of being there a year the problems started.
John accused me of making mistakes that required re-doing my work. I asked him to show me what it was that I did wrong but he couldn’t produce proof.
Soon the mistakes became a weekly occurance, then a nightly occurance yet John could not produce evidence.
My anxiety overwhelmed me; I started having problems sleeping. I couldn’t figure out how I could be making so many mistakes; I did not have a reputation for making mistakes. I had a letter of recommendation from a former department supervisor that clearly stated that I was “meticulous” and had “a keen eye for detail”, so why was I making so many mistakes and WHY wasn’t John able to produce the evidence so that I could correct whatever I was doing wrong?
And there were those constant threats that I better straighten up regarding the errors or face displinary action such as a two-week suspension without pay or being fired.
My doctor wrote a letter on my behalf requesting that my shift start time be changed to 1 a.m. so that I didn’t have to deal with John (he usually left work at that time). Still, he would stay over until I came in so he could tell me about the mistakes that I was making; that too much of my work had to be torn down and restripped. He said that some of the jobs went up on the press wrong and the company was losing valuable press running time, thus costing money.
Finally, John produced the evidence that I had been asking for. He showed me a photocopy of the film ( I ) stripped before it was torn down and restripped. The photocopies weren’t clear because negatives could not be photocopied clearly. He also had the corrected negative taped to the mylar carrier. I checked the label on the mylar carrier that the film was secured to. It was initialed by the original stripper who worked on that particular page. It was initialed CM.
But wait a minute...CM? I don’t initial anything CM and none of the writing on the label was mine.
I told John that was not my writing or my initials. He was insistant that I initialed the job and he would not accept that.
We argued for several minutes over this. I initial everything CDM - for my first, middle and last name-period; and I circle my initials too! Always have; always will.
At the end of my shift, I had to meet with Department Manager Vince V. who told me that he had no choice but to suspend me for two weeks without pay for costly mistakes.
Although going without two weeks of pay would be a financial hardship, I had hoped that I could get my nerves calmed down in that time.
One Sunday night I went into work and began to have problems with lightheadedness; I couldn’t think.
The floors were being stripped and waxed; my department had been finished several hours earlier but the chemical smell lingered. It was disorienting me. (I am still sensitive to chemical smells and MCS is often a componite of fibromyalgia and CFIDS).
The lead person on my shift was Tim M.; a part-time fireman and EMT in Amherst. I went to him and told him I was having problems; or tried to. I was conscious of my surroundings, somewhat coherent but spaced. I felt like I was coming out of a drug induced sleep; feeling much like I was under the influence of sodium-pentethol. I was trying to get help from Tim; I couldn’t think on my own. I needed to go to the hospital but could not convey that to him. I don’t understand why, being an EMT, he did not recognize this.
I tried to work. I started to make mistakes; I corrected them. I made more mistakes; I corrected them. I remember struggling to think and not feeling confident in what I was working on. I was exposed to toxic chemicals at work again and once again I lost my ability to function.
(I've had several exposures to toxic chemicals in my 25 year career).
Now some (still not all) of the mistakes were mine.
My doctor took me out of work for three months. I had to leave work often due to the continuous outgasing from the chemicals; even weeks later.
Meanwhile my best friend Debby, who had started at the company upon my recommendation, had suggested that I make an appointment with a rheumetologist that her sister was going to. Debby was quite aware of the problems I was having with anxiety, sleep and the beginning of depression symptoms and felt that I might have what her sister was diagnosed with; fibromyalgia. (I will write more about how my diagnosis for fibromyalgia was made in a future posting).
I received a letter from the company asking me when I could return to work. In the letter, they stated that they would have to fill my position if I did not return soon.
Although I didn't feel ready mentally and physically ready to return, I convinced my doctor to release me from sick leave despite his objections. He signed the release papers.
I telephoned the HR Director and told her that my doctor was releasing me to come back to work. The next day, I took the release to the HR Director and was asked to wait in the lobby. About ten minutes passed and then I heard various names announced over the intercom - the company president Bob M., the plant manager, the department manager Vince V., second-shift supervisor and my immediate boss John H. - all called to the conference room.
I knew immediately, I was set up.
Then I was escorted in. The HR Director, her assistant and a secretary (to document the meeting) were also present.
Needless to say; I was let go. The president of the company said that I wasn’t fired - I was being laid off. He said that the company would not dispute unemployment compensation and that I was welcome to apply for any future openings that I was qualified for within the company.
I did apply for an advertised opening in my former pre-press department and was not granted an interview.
I filed with the EEOC a discrimination complaint against the company. During the EEOC investigation, they could not find evidence to support my claim.
After my dismissal, two subsequent charges of sexual harassment were filed with the EEOC against the company. One of the charges, filed January 22, 1997 in U.S. District Court in Cleveland was settled out of court, in favor of the victim, for an undisclosed amount in damages The other victim, in a separate incident of sexual harassment, was awarded a settlement (by jury) in excess of $800,000. The company appealed but, unfortunately, the victim financially could not pursue the case. Both cases were high profile; publicized by Cleveland print and television media!
Years later - after my symptoms worsened, I could no longer work and had filed for Social Security Disability - I ran into a former employee of this company at the library in Berea.
Debbie S., a department manager who had been fired by the company after the sexual harassment jury trial, had been instructed to falsify testimonial documents regarding that particular lawsuit against the company.
Debbie S. told me that she had come to my defense regarding the mistakes that I was accused of making. She showed my shift-supervisor, the department manager and the plant manager writing comparisons between the labels initialed MC and mine which were initialed CDM.
She also told them who MC was. His name was Mike C. and he initialed all of his work with his last name initial first (the C) and his first name initial last (the M).
Mike C. had been at the company for nearly 20 years; was well liked - one of the boys.
Debbie S. said that a comment was made that, since they (the spine-less bastards!) had made the mistake of accusing me, they felt they should continue the charade rather than risk being sued. All of this was on the advice of Russ H., the head of HR at the downtown Cleveland corporate office, and corporate attorneys. The reason why I was laid off rather than fired; the reason why my unemployment claim was not going to be disputed.
However, I believe in Karma.
You see, John H., my shift-supervisor - my immediate boss, had gone on sick leave for anxiety and was very close to a breakdown. After several months on sick leave he was advised to return to work or his position would be filled. He returned and was dismissed!
Here’s is an interesting note about John H. - he was given his supervisory position because - he made too many mistakes when he was a four-color stripper!
In 2006, the company was sold to a Chicago-based printing and publishing company (the largest in the United States) and the Berea facility was closed.
It is believed (in all faiths: all cultures) that, when close to death (NDE) or at the actual time of death, each and every one of us will experience a panoramic life review. I wonder what it will be like for my accusers who were at this particular printing/publishing company?
There is no need to resort to violence - just be patient. What goes around, comes around.
Karma is a good thing. Wait for it. Enjoy the gratification of it!
End
By the way, I DO NOT endorse violence in the workplace!
Please feel free to comment. I would love to hear what you have to say about TOXIC BOSSES!
Oh, Yes! Here are some links you may enjoy:
How to protest at work the French way - take your boss hostage
Boss Bitching: Tyrant Boss Types
AND WE MUST NOT FORGET THE QUEEN OF MEAN. She has had her panoramic life review & she won't be back.
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